


Lay Faith at Your Foundations

by hollybennett123



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cock Worship, Fingering, Gentleness, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Pre-Thor (2011), Sweet/Hot, Teasing, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 18:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13553388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollybennett123/pseuds/hollybennett123
Summary: When Thor is like this -- of good mood and given to indulgence, warm-flushed and eyes heavy-lidded -- Loki cannot help but desire him all the more, even if he will admit it only to himself. There are many versions of Thor, each alike and different in their own ways, but this one is amongst Loki’s most beloved.(They are gods, and they are not: Loki prefers to worship in his own way.)





	Lay Faith at Your Foundations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violia/gifts).



> A gift for violia, just for being awesome :) ♥ 
> 
> This ended up being more fluffy, filthy and light-hearted than I ever intended! It’s also about 2,000 words longer than I thought it was going to be and several of the tags were late additions after I went completely off-track -- will Loki ever stop being such an infuriating cock tease in my fics? All signs point to nope
> 
> I have a tumblr [here](http://hollybennett123.tumblr.com/), please all feel free to send me messages from time to time in which you yell about your feelings Thorki or otherwise because I love to receive them

“I cannot believe,” Loki says wryly as he lets himself into Thor’s bedchambers, “that you are still in bed at this hour.”

The heavy curtains at Thor’s window are tugged only half-closed; the midday sun, winter-pale, slants across the room between the fabric’s folds and fills the space with dappled patches of light and shadow.

“I am not in bed,” Thor replies with a lazy smile, reclining atop the sheets with his arms crossed behind his head. “I am _on_ my bed, resting. I have been up since dawn.”

Kicking his boots off beside the bed, Loki fits himself alongside him, laid out on his side with his chin propped on one hand.

“Is that so,” he says curiously. “Where were you? You didn’t attend breakfast.”

“The Lady Sif asked kindly if I might accompany her to the training grounds at first light to help her practise her swordsmanship,” Thor replies. He blinks twice, slow and drowsy, and then his eyes fall closed, but there remains a flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth when he adds, “I’m sorry that you were forced to breakfast without me, brother; you must have missed me terribly.”

Loki frowns at him for his teasing and curls a lock of blond hair around his index finger, tugging at it so that Thor’s attention is drawn back to him. He realises now that Thor is freshly returned from the baths: his hair is still slightly dampened, and there remains a hint of a flush to his clean-scrubbed skin.

“Hardly,” Loki scoffs, arching an eyebrow. “But one of Father’s advisors took the seat alongside me and insisted on having the most tedious conversations whilst we ate. I could hardly bear it.”

“How awful,” Thor murmurs, his expression fond and on the verge of laughter.

“Quite,” says Loki. “It was so terribly dull that I very nearly had to put a curse on him.”

It would not be worth the hassle, Loki had decided in the end; besides, he has long found that there is far less enjoyment in idle mischief when his brother is not close by to share in the amusement.

“And now you find yourself in better company,” muses Thor. “Did you seek me for any particular purpose?”

Lifting his fingers to Loki’s cheek, he carefully tucks a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. His fingertips linger over Loki’s cheekbone and the curve of his jaw, his gaze soft and pensive.

“Yes,” Loki sighs, “I am bored,” and he gets to his knees and swings one leg over Thor’s thighs to straddle him.

Thor’s hands come to rest on Loki’s knees, stroking lightly. When Thor is like this -- of good mood and given to indulgence, warm-flushed and eyes heavy-lidded -- Loki cannot help but desire him all the more, even if he will admit it only to himself. There are many versions of Thor, each alike and different in their own ways, but this one is amongst Loki’s most beloved.

“You are not bored, Loki,” Thor says knowingly, cocking his head where it rests upon the pillow. His hands slide further up Loki’s legs, skimming over the smooth fabric of his breeches, and he thumbs at the sensitive insides of Loki’s thighs. “I think that you are something else entirely.”

Loki answers only with a smirk, and leans down so that he may brush their lips together. The kiss is soft and sweet, and Loki does it again, though he punctuates it this time by sucking lightly at Thor’s bottom lip as he withdraws.

Both of Thor’s hands rise to cup gently at Loki’s face, and he drags one thumb across the corner of Loki’s mouth. “Open up for me,” Thor murmurs, coaxing, “let me _in_.”

Thor’s request is impossible to ignore: Loki yields to him gladly, his lips parting as he leans in once again. Thor kisses him lushly, his tongue plunging deep and stroking hotly, maddeningly, over Loki’s own.

It is blissful in the kind of way that makes Loki’s toes curl; he moans softly into Thor’s willing mouth, and lets Thor kiss him however he sees fit. Thor’s hands at his jaw remain there, his fingers fanning out across Loki’s cheeks.

Loki’s lips feel reddened and slick by the time they finally part, thoroughly kissed. Thor fares similarly, and Loki cannot resist kissing him once more, licking over Thor’s shining bottom lip with the barest flicker of tongue before he lazily pushes himself upright.

“Sit up,” Loki prompts; he curls his fingers into Thor’s collar, encouraging him upward, and Thor dutifully complies. Loki carefully unfastens the three buttons at Thor’s throat before tugging the tunic off over Thor’s head and tossing it aside. Thor reaches for Loki’s clothing in turn, but Loki pushes his hands away with an enigmatic smile. “Not yet.”

Pressing Thor gently back onto the bed, Loki moves from his seat in Thor’s lap to instead kneel beside him. Thor looks at him curiously, and his breath catches when Loki’s fingers find the laces of his breeches.

Loki unlaces him with a clumsiness that is wholly deliberate, allowing his fingertips to trip over the swell of Thor’s cock where it has begun to fill out against his thigh. He is wearing nothing beneath his breeches, and so when Loki slides them down over his legs until he is free of them, Thor is left entirely naked.

Thor reaches for Loki once again, but Loki takes each of his hands in his own and presses them to the pillow just beyond where Thor rests his head.

“No touching,” Loki chides him. “Keep your hands where I have put them, brother, or I will find a way to bind them there myself.”

Thor raises his eyebrows; the gleam in his eye and tilt to his mouth suggest that he is considering whether he might provoke Loki into following through on his promise, but ultimately he acts as instructed and leaves both hands as placed. Loki kisses him briefly in reward, and reclaims his place upon Thor’s broad thighs.

It is a fine sight, Thor laid out beneath him like this, and for a long moment Loki merely looks his fill. Thor is breathtaking, no matter how many times Loki gazes upon him: magnificent to an extent no mortal could ever hope to match. Loki luxuriates in beautiful things, quietly collects them like trinkets, but Thor remains by far the finest of all things that Loki has ever taken for his own.

Loki first turns his attention to Thor’s strong arms, trailing his fingertips over the delicate bones of Thor’s wrists before drawing onwards to map the prominent contours of his biceps. Even at rest, each sweeping curve of muscle alludes to a raw, striking power that can barely be contained. Loki reflects briefly on being held down by Thor, of being ruthlessly and thoroughly fucked by him, and feels his mouth go dry. Swallowing, he chooses not to dwell on the thought, lovely but distracting as it is: it is not his intention today.

He moves instead to Thor’s throat, and scatters a leisurely trail of kisses from the hinge of his jaw to the divot between his collarbones. Thor’s head lolls back, making room for Loki as he moves upward once again to suck a mark to the golden column of his neck.

“You take your time today, brother. It is not like you to be so patient,” Thor teases.

 _Nor so gentle_ is left unsaid but is nevertheless true: Loki is generally given to fuck as viciously as he fights, but he can make exceptions when he is in the mood for it. Loki fits his palm over Thor’s mouth and delights in the way his eyes darken with lust.

“Be quiet,” Loki murmurs, and gives him a smile that is all sharp edges. “I am enjoying myself.”

When he removes his hand from Thor’s mouth and kisses him, Thor’s fingers twitch where they lay upon the pillow as though he had intended to reach for Loki but then remembered himself. Loki finds that he misses Thor’s hands on him, but to have him so obediently at his mercy, entirely Loki’s for the taking, is a rare opportunity he intends to take full advantage of.

Thor becomes more vocal when Loki shifts his attention down to his chest, tracing his fingers lightly over his pectoral muscles. He kisses Thor languidly as he rolls one nipple between finger and thumb and Thor sighs with pleasure; his cock grows harder where it lies between Loki’s belly and his own, but Loki continues to lavish his attention elsewhere.

Unable to resist, Loki moves down Thor’s body to lick first at one peaked nipple and then the other. When he sucks at one, letting Thor feel the sleek edge of his teeth, Thor sucks in a breath and clutches at the pillow, arching sweetly into him like a bow pulled taut.

“Loki,” Thor pants as he sinks back down into the bed, a tremor of desperation now stealing into his voice. A subtle red flush of arousal now stains his skin from chest to cheek, simmering heat banking beneath the surface.

Switching his attention to the opposite side, Loki teases at him with his mouth until Thor is angling his hips up impatiently, desperately seeking friction where his cock remains untouched. The thick length of him slides against Loki’s clothing and catches wetly at the head, leaving dark trails where he is beginning to leak.

“How hard you are,” Loki says approvingly, and feels Thor twitch beneath him at the words alone. “Barely touched, and already so wet for me.”

Fitting himself close to Thor, chest to chest, he takes a handful of Thor’s flaxen hair where it lies across the pillow and tugs at it. Thor grunts softly, rutting up against him. Feeling generous, Loki leans into it and lets him; pulls at his hair again, harder this time, just to witness the undeniable beauty in Thor’s face in the moment that pleasure flits across it.

The sound Thor makes when Loki sits up again is one of pure frustration.

“You are the _worst_ ,” he insists, holding Loki’s gaze, though the way he is smiling strips all heat from his words.

“Have patience,” Loki tells him lightly, “I’m getting to it.” He rests both palms upon Thor’s chest, and feels the fervent thud of Thor’s heartbeat pounding beneath.

“Brother, let me touch you,” Thor urges, his voice pitched low and cajoling. “I long to put my hands on you, if only you’d allow it. Please?”

How Loki hates it when Thor attempts to charm him like this, with his bright eyes and his words dripping with want. Hates, in truth, how effective it is: if Loki’s tongue is of silver then Thor’s is of gold just like the rest of him, at least where Loki is concerned, and he feels his conviction wavering in the face of such blatant temptation.

It takes Loki several seconds to realise that he is staring wistfully at Thor’s hands and that Thor is still waiting for an answer.

“If it keeps you from complaining,” Loki says, assuming an air of indifference, “then I suppose I can allow it.”

Thor appears far too smug for Loki’s liking, and Loki sets about kissing the triumphant look from his face before he can pass comment on Loki’s willpower or lack thereof. Thor’s hands find the hem of Loki’s tunic, gathering it up eagerly so that he can get at the bare skin beneath; he grips at Loki’s slim waist and pulls their bodies tightly together, and the abrupt, tempestuous nature of his handling has Loki moaning unbidden into their kiss.

“The things I want to do to you,” Thor says gruffly, biting at Loki’s bottom lip, “when you make such sounds.”

“Stop it,” Loki murmurs against Thor’s mouth, attempting to supress both a shiver and a smile. “You are _distracting me_.”

“Am I?” Thor says, and his eyes shine with mirth.

Still holding Loki in place, he rolls their hips together unhurried and deliberate. His cock slides against the cloth of Loki’s breeches, nudging alongside the erection Loki has been steadfastly ignoring for now, and drags hotly against the bared skin of Loki’s stomach.

The resulting thrum of pleasure feels like lightning in Loki’s veins, sudden and sharp and all-consuming. He inhales sharply, thrusting down against Thor on instinct; tucks his face to Thor’s neck, breathing in the clean, gorgeous scent of him.

“Mm. Distract me all you want,” Loki murmurs against Thor’s ear once he has regained his composure. “The more time you spend doing so, the longer you will wait to feel my mouth on your cock.”

Thor shudders against him, much to Loki’s delight. He holds his hands up in surrender under Loki’s watchful eye, returning them to their previous position at either side of his head.

“By all means,” Thor says readily, breathlessly, with a smile like the sun. “Do with me as you will.”

Loki hums a pleased sound, running his thumbs along the sculpted arcs of Thor’s hipbones. Climbing from his lap, he urges Thor’s legs apart so that he can instead crawl between them.

Thor’s broad chest rises and falls deeply with each measured breath, his desire so carefully held in check. Loki kneels before him, unmoving, and calmly looks over every inch of him.

“Do I satisfy you?” Thor says gently. His tone aims at levity, but Loki doesn’t miss the rarely-witnessed vulnerability that colours it too. “Am I to your liking?”

Loki touches two fingers to the inside of Thor’s bent knee and drags them slowly up over the innermost muscles of his thigh, watching intently as they press into tender, smooth skin. How easily he bruises there, when Loki is permitted to leave his mark: shadows of Loki’s fingers still linger on Thor’s skin from a week ago, fading by the day.

“Oh, yes,” Loki says with heated approval, looking Thor in the eye. Thor looks back at him with the dreamy kind of devotion that no one else ever has opportunity to witness between them; the kind that makes Loki’s chest feel tight each and every time.

Leaning over Thor, propped up on both hands, Loki softly presses their mouths together lest he accidentally speak something so foolishly sentimental that he will regret it later. One of Thor’s hands cups warmly at Loki’s cheek, unimaginably tender, but Loki decides he will allow it.

“Please,” Thor whispers against his mouth, lacking in the specifics but nevertheless clear in his meaning.

“What?” says Loki, just to be contrary. He adds, at Thor’s unimpressed head tilt: “Perhaps I want to hear you say it. Ask _nicely_.”

Thor’s expression clearly conveys the phrase _why are you like this_ , but he runs his fingers gently through Loki’s hair regardless; takes a breath and says quietly, “Suck me. Please. I ache to feel your mouth on me and have tried my best to be patient.”

His eyes are distractingly blue around the dark pools of his pupils, fixed unwaveringly on Loki’s own.

“I suppose you have,” Loki agrees, fully in the knowledge that such praise can rouse Thor just as much as anything he can accomplish with his hands or his mouth. “You’ve been very good for me.”

Still kneeling between the parentheses of Thor’s bent knees, Loki moves down Thor’s body to lick over his stomach where his cock has leaked in thin rivulets that trickle between each groove of muscle. Thor tenses against him at the sudden shock of pleasure and then relaxes -- and oh, Loki thinks, but Thor _is_ on his best behaviour today, for his hands are back upon the pillow without even being asked.

At last Loki wraps his fingers around the base of Thor’s cock, thick and blood-hot and so hard that Thor was surely being truthful when he uttered the word _ache_. Thor says nothing further, but makes a quiet sound of relief when Loki strokes him slowly from base to tip.

Gently, Loki nudges at the foreskin with his thumb so that it can slip easily back and forth over the head with each motion of his hand. The wetness gathering at the tip spills over onto Loki’s hand and runs down his wrist, and he dips down to catch it with his tongue as Thor groans at the sight.

Loki’s mouth waters now with the want to suck at him properly, and he cannot help but groan when he first takes him into his mouth -- at the salt-bitter taste, at the feel of it, at the way Thor _trembles_. Still holding Thor’s cock slackly within one fist, Loki suckles only at the head until Thor is breathless with need, one arm thrown across his face.

“Do not _tease_ , brother,” Thor pleads, his voice now rough with want.

Loki rolls his eyes and licks over the slit with the flat of his tongue just to make Thor’s hips jerk upward needily.

“Why do you not look at me?” Loki asks curiously, and gives Thor a couple of strong pulls with his hand. Loki likes to be looked at, as Thor very well knows.

Thor moves his arm just enough that he can uncover one eye to glance down at him.

“Because,” Thor says, laughing softly, “your mouth was already driving me to distraction. Even clothed, to see you on your hands and knees is too much for me to bear.”

“Hm,” says Loki, tossing his hair over one shoulder, “fair enough,” and then swallows Thor down as deeply as he can manage.

“Fuck,” Thor exhales, “ _oh_ ,” as the head of his cock catches at the back of Loki’s throat, but he must then bite down on his hand or his wrist because he gives a muffled groan and is quieter thereafter.

Inevitably Loki gags wetly, his approach being neither slow enough nor careful enough to ensure that he wouldn’t. His eyes flutter shut as he does so, his lashes wet at the corners, and he gives a hum of contentment; doubles down then to suck at Thor harder, even if it feels as though he couldn’t possibly fit any more into his mouth.

“I know you like to make claim to the contrary, Loki,” Thor says tightly, apparently now soothed enough in his passions that he is at least capable of looking at him, “but your preoccupation with size is quite apparent.” His amused tone and the lift of his brow carry just a hint of nonchalant arrogance that Loki would die before admitting he finds attractive on him.

Loki pulls off slowly, with a slick sound that is delightfully vulgar, and has to lick at his bottom lip to break the gossamer threads of saliva that still connect them. Thor appears _ravenous_.

“How absurd,” Loki says, smirking and holding his gaze. He lowers his head again until the tip of Thor’s cock rests against his bottom lip, and lets his tongue flick over him teasingly. Thor’s breath hitches, his cock throbbing against Loki’s fingers where he holds him in a loose grip. “You do talk nonsense, Thor. I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Thor begins to laugh, but the sound splinters into a moan as Loki sheaths his cock within the hot grip of his mouth once again.

Loki revels in the way his jaw aches to accommodate him, Thor’s cock heavy on his tongue. It sets something alight in him, his own arousal suddenly more pressing than before, and he slips one hand into his breeches to palm at himself. He doesn’t bother to grip at himself properly, but merely allows himself to rock into the press of his hand each time his lips descend, his other hand braced on the bed alongside Thor’s hip.

“Are you touching yourself?” Thor says in wonderment, breathing faster, and Loki would laugh at how broken he sounds if his mouth weren’t otherwise occupied. Then more urgently, the careful thrust of Thor’s cock into Loki’s mouth now barely restrained: “Loki. _Loki_ , if you don’t want me to spend in your mouth, then -- ”

He doesn’t quite manage to speak the rest, gasping and shuddering full-bodied as Loki withdraws the hand that is inside his breeches and instead uses it to grip Thor firmly around the base of his cock to keep him from coming. Thor’s hips jerk, desperately seeking release, but Loki keeps a tight hold on him until it passes.

“Not -- ” Loki begins, and has to swallow thickly before clearing his throat. He tries again, releasing his grip on Thor as he does so. “Not _yet_.”

Thor takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, some of the tight-coiled tension leaving his shoulders. He gleams all over with a thin sheen of sweat, the veins in his arms standing proud with the hard pounding of his pulse, and Loki thinks he looks even more a god now than he does on the fields of battle.

Looking at Loki, Thor knocks one knee gently against his side to punish him in jest.

“I should have known that you weren’t about to take pity on me,” Thor says, trying and failing to look stern.

Loki gives him a practised look of innocence, and leans over him to brush their lips together.

“It is as I said,” Loki says with a slight shrug of one shoulder, and kisses him again. “I am enjoying myself.”

“Might you enjoy yourself faster? I’d be very grateful,” Thor murmurs against the insistent press of Loki’s mouth.

Loki settles back on his heels and takes Thor’s cock in hand once again, raking the fingernails of the other through the short hair at its base.

“I might,” he says with a quirk of his lips, but Thor simply gives a sigh of satisfaction at the feel of Loki’s hands on him again, and makes no further requests.

Loki licks along the vein at the underside of Thor’s cock, feels it pulsing against his tongue, and then seals his mouth over him once again. Thor is a _mess_ , exquisitely so, with precome and spit dripping thickly down over his balls and between his legs.

Sliding the pads of two fingers through the wetness, Loki drags them lightly over Thor’s hole and glances up at him. Thor nods keenly, lips parted and eyes glassy; still sucking at him, Loki slides one finger inside him, and feels a tug of pleasure deep inside himself in response to the tight, hot feel of Thor’s body clasped around him.

He groans softly around Thor’s cock, his own jerking within the confines of his breeches; Thor must feel the vibrations of Loki’s mouth everywhere, for he shakes against him slightly and draws a sharp breath. Loki teases then at Thor’s hole with a second finger, testing.

" _Yes_ ,” Thor gasps, lacking in patience, and pushes down against him.

It is a clear enough demand: Loki thrusts both inside without further hesitation, pushing deep and curling them with brutal accuracy. Thor _writhes_ , overwhelmed, and Loki can quite literally taste how close he is to spilling in his mouth. It would take very little at all to see Thor undone.

Instead, Loki goes still; draws his mouth from Thor’s cock, and gently extracts his fingers.

“Loki,” Thor pleads, laughing and livid and spectacular. Loki idly wonders how much it would take to make him cry.

“Soon,” Loki soothes him, instead. “I promise.”

Loki concentrates and draws a finger down the length of his own body, his clothes disappearing with a flutter of magic. It isn’t until he is finally stroking his hand over his own cock that he realises how badly he needs this; how desperately hard he is, fervent heat pricking down his spine.

“Gods, Loki,” Thor murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

Loki holds himself over him on one hand, and kisses him hungrily. His hand speeds on his cock, and he presses his face to Thor’s neck with a bitten-back moan. Thor is panting softly against his ear, so desperate and so, so good.

Sitting back on his heels, Loki strokes one hand down over Thor’s flank to grip at his waist, and then he is coming in white-hot, blissful pulses that streak over Thor’s cock and run attractively over his stomach and hips.

“Fuck,” Loki murmurs finally, dazed, his hand slowing to a halt.

Thor looks like he is on a blade’s edge, only the smallest of nudges needed to take him over. It would be too cruel, Loki thinks, to make him wait any longer.

“Thor,” Loki says, still breathless and thrumming all over with pleasure. “Hold my hair.”

Thor looks like he is on some different planet entirely but nevertheless does as instructed when Loki leans forward, gathering his hair up with trembling fingers to keep it clean. With Loki’s mouth back upon his cock, it takes mere seconds for him to come, spilling and spilling down Loki’s throat with the deepest of groans.

Loki works him through it until he shivers, and then pulls away gently; Thor’s fingers slide carefully from his hair and Loki shakes it out to fall over his shoulders once again. When Thor’s legs slide down onto the bed in an idle sprawl, Loki climbs back onto his lap, his favoured seat.

Neatly wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Loki kisses Thor with lazy satisfaction. Thor’s hands smooth over his back, holding him close as Loki summons the last of his energy to whisper a spell to rinse their bodies clean.

“Are you cured of your boredom, brother?” Thor asks him, and then chuckles at absolutely nothing because he is a love-drunk idiot.

“It seems so,” Loki says, trying not to smile. “For now, at least.”

Sitting up again, Loki casts about for his clothing only to remember that he had magicked every scrap of it away. His head feels cotton-filled, his body still humming with satisfaction; it feels like far too much effort to expend more energy on magic to recall it now, especially given that he’d only have to clean it too where Thor had enthusiastically rubbed against him.

Thor’s tunic is draped over the wooden bedpost where Loki had cast it behind him earlier, and on a whim he reaches for it and pulls it on. Being tailored to Thor’s build, it is far too broad across the shoulders to properly fit Loki’s frame, and with the buttons left undone it inevitably cascades pleasingly off one shoulder.

Loki only wishes he had a mirror to hand in which he could admire himself.

“You look like temptation itself in that,” Thor breathes, looking up at him transfixed. He is still flushed from his orgasm, his hair in glorious disarray, and doesn’t appear to notice that his hands now grip possessively at Loki’s bare legs.

“Good,” Loki says, pleased, and drapes himself over Thor alluringly. “Can I tempt you to fetch me some food from the kitchens? Some bread, and some cheese to go with it? I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

“Loki,” Thor groans. “ _No_. I am comfortable, and you are perfectly capable of walking down to the kitchens yourself.”

Loki looks at him with affection and gently touches his thumb to Thor’s bottom lip. “And some grapes, too,” he says decisively. “Put them in a bowl for me.”

Thor is silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, but then he heaves an exaggerated sigh and rolls them both over. He looks down at Loki with fond exasperation before getting up and heading to his wardrobe to find alternative clothing.

Loki stretches out on the sheets with a smile of utter self-satisfaction; watches Thor, always, and appreciates the view.

“Do you ever imagine,” Thor says once adequately dressed, flashing a playful grin as he finishes lacing his boots, “the things you could achieve, Loki, if you devoted time to your talents beyond lying on your back and putting things in your mouth?”

“ _Excuse me_?” Loki snaps, sitting upright with a scowl. For a moment he cannot decide whether he ought to laugh or hurl several pillows at Thor’s face in retaliation, but Thor is sensible enough that he has already made his escape.

Pouting, Loki falls back onto the bed with a huff, and thinks that he will give Thor none of the grapes he has gone to fetch. Perhaps just a couple, if he asks nicely and bestows Loki with adequate compliments.

He is feeling generous, today, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Loki Is A Size Queen But Likes To Pretend Otherwise Even Though It’s Obvious, a 4,500-word essay, by me, a normal person, who is not at all projecting,


End file.
